Monday, 29 March 2010


A word came out of my head

And wanted to go on a tour.

I told it to fit into my poem,

“You’ll see so many books,” I said.

“No,” said it,

“I want no poem!

They do not give me life,

They do not give me body.”

I told it to become a scrabble test,

And it laughed at my face.

“I want no-one scribbling me around,

I hate to be deciphered, I hate to be known!”

Finally I said, “Ride on the back of my mind.”

It thought a bit here,

It looked a bit around,

And said:

“That sounds all right.”

And then it rode with me,

And then I forgot about it.

Today when I looked at you,

I found a knock at my brain-door.

“Can I come out now,” the word asked.

And when I said yes,

It ran to you.


Post a Comment